Sullivan had used some kind of club, because the bruising and contusions striped her body in livid bars. The beating spoke of rage and cruelty. If Sullivan’s goal had been to knock her senseless, a simple blow to the head would have sufficed. He had wanted to inflict maximum pain and damage.

Josiah balled his hands into fists. He despised men who beat those who were not as physically strong as they were. “If she didn’t already kill you, I will,” he whispered to the absent man. “And I won’t just murder you—I’ll crucify you.”

He could be patient. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to wait for the right opportunity.

But right now he needed to focus on more urgent matters. His magical talent didn’t lie in healing, but he knew basic spells to mend damage, and that was really all she needed. It would also be a kindness to cast them while she was still unconscious.

He took several photos quickly in case she decided to press charges, and then he started with the head wound since that injury concerned him the most. It was still seeping blood, so he carefully pinched the torn skin together and held it with his fingers while he cast spells, pausing only long enough to verify that her body had absorbed one before moving on to the next.

She began to stir, and he muttered a mental curse. Healing damage was a painful business as the magic forced the body to knit together. They weren’t going to get lucky tonight. The discomfort was bringing her around.

Gingerly, he lifted his hand away from the head wound and inspected the area. The edges held, at least for the moment, but she needed more healing before she was out of danger.

She pushed his hand away and curled on her side. “What are you doing?”

“I’m healing you, or at least I was.” He squatted by the edge of the bed so that he was in her line of sight.

“My head is splitting.” She licked her lips. “And I’m thirsty.”

“You have a concussion. I’ll get you a drink of water in a minute.” He looked her over. Then, even though it didn’t matter, he found himself asking, “What did he hit you with?”

“I don’t know. He came at me from behind when I was taking out some trash.” Her good eye was cloudy and hazed. “I did everything you told me to do, but it never occurred to me to practice hitting something behind me. That’s why he was able to get so many strikes in.”

“You did well.” He touched her shoulder with light fingers.

Her gaze traveled away from his expression and she frowned. “This doesn’t look like my rental. Where are we?”